[WONGI] And Your Bitter Clichés Can’t Outrun the Winter
Title: And Your Bitter Clichés Can’t Outrun the Winter
Author: fatdix
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Wongi
Word Count: 332 (flash fic)
Genre: Angst
Summary: Wonbin sometimes has a few choice words for how Hongki feels under his skin- fucking unreachable being one of the repetitive ones.
A/N: My first FT Island fic! It doesn't really make much sense and it's sort of ambiguous and gross and all the things I hate about emo fic, but it's still my first. I might have butchered their characters. I still don't know them all too well. :( For xsammy09x.
And Your Bitter Clichés Can’t Outrun the Winter
Wonbin has little regard for self preservation. His feelings for Hongki are farfetched, painful to witness, almost impossible to attest to, and just, just excruciatingly true. And he feels like he is watching a low budget horror flick, feels like he’s being gutted like a fish, intestines first, and then he can’t feel what else.
Like every other metaphor that will never be adequate enough to explain this.
Explain this (although Wonbin sometimes has a few choice words for how Hongki feels under his skin-fucking unreachable being one of the repetitive ones).
Hongki laughs openly, carelessly, and Wonbin can only sit back in silence, his arms cold, freezing. Hongki looks, feels like frostbite (although he would have to ask Jaejin about that, for clarification). He flits around and behaves like everything is fine, because everything is fine. Wonbin is just a spectator for Hongki’s everything, trying to catch a few fouls, Hongki #1 foam mitten raised high in the air.
Wonbin drives carelessly, clutching the wheel like it is his aching heart (how fucking cliché, he thinks). The gravel keens under the weight of the car, the weight of Wonbin and his heavy-what? His heavy stupidity maybe. Naivety, also possible.
His phone rings, and it isn’t Hongki (of course it isn’t). Jaejin sounds mildly concerned, and Hongki, by the sound of it, is lying in his lap and playing with his hair and stroking his thigh and Wonbin is probably imagining things again.
He parks near a jetty and sits along its edge, dips his feet in the water, mulls over things he’s mulled over at least twice within the day, both times ending with an acute feeling of being dropped into a frozen lake (naked, no less).
His phone rings again, and it isn’t Hongki. Wonbin watches as it flies into the bottle green water, his hand still raised from having flung it as hard as he could manage.
The engine starts and he drives, running from the cold.
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Author: fatdix
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Wongi
Word Count: 332 (flash fic)
Genre: Angst
Summary: Wonbin sometimes has a few choice words for how Hongki feels under his skin- fucking unreachable being one of the repetitive ones.
A/N: My first FT Island fic! It doesn't really make much sense and it's sort of ambiguous and gross and all the things I hate about emo fic, but it's still my first. I might have butchered their characters. I still don't know them all too well. :( For xsammy09x.
And Your Bitter Clichés Can’t Outrun the Winter
Wonbin has little regard for self preservation. His feelings for Hongki are farfetched, painful to witness, almost impossible to attest to, and just, just excruciatingly true. And he feels like he is watching a low budget horror flick, feels like he’s being gutted like a fish, intestines first, and then he can’t feel what else.
Like every other metaphor that will never be adequate enough to explain this.
Explain this (although Wonbin sometimes has a few choice words for how Hongki feels under his skin-fucking unreachable being one of the repetitive ones).
Hongki laughs openly, carelessly, and Wonbin can only sit back in silence, his arms cold, freezing. Hongki looks, feels like frostbite (although he would have to ask Jaejin about that, for clarification). He flits around and behaves like everything is fine, because everything is fine. Wonbin is just a spectator for Hongki’s everything, trying to catch a few fouls, Hongki #1 foam mitten raised high in the air.
Wonbin drives carelessly, clutching the wheel like it is his aching heart (how fucking cliché, he thinks). The gravel keens under the weight of the car, the weight of Wonbin and his heavy-what? His heavy stupidity maybe. Naivety, also possible.
His phone rings, and it isn’t Hongki (of course it isn’t). Jaejin sounds mildly concerned, and Hongki, by the sound of it, is lying in his lap and playing with his hair and stroking his thigh and Wonbin is probably imagining things again.
He parks near a jetty and sits along its edge, dips his feet in the water, mulls over things he’s mulled over at least twice within the day, both times ending with an acute feeling of being dropped into a frozen lake (naked, no less).
His phone rings again, and it isn’t Hongki. Wonbin watches as it flies into the bottle green water, his hand still raised from having flung it as hard as he could manage.
The engine starts and he drives, running from the cold.
Archive
Feedback <-- if you love me!!!